


dancing with the devil

by rynsngyl



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst, Blood and Violence, M/M, Smut, a ha ha many angst, demon hunter hangyul, demon seungyoun, incubus seungyoun, make it dark but also hot, questionable morals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rynsngyl/pseuds/rynsngyl
Summary: hangyul’s made a deal with the devil, and now they dance in an intricate game of life and lust.
Relationships: Cho Seungyeon | Seungyoun/Lee Hangyul
Comments: 29
Kudos: 62





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> omg im back with something spoopy HAHAHAHHAH

the gun feels cold in his hands, the smooth metal seeming like ice even as it’s smoking from the last few shots that he’s fired at his target, who crumples to the ground before him, clawing at the ground in an attempt to get away.

he’s a predator, the hunter of the sinful: those who wreak havoc upon other people’s lives and cause chaos in the world are those who are assigned to die by his hand. he is the reaper, who judges those who sin, and rightfully erases their existence from the earth. 

he’s the arbiter who makes sure that the scum that run amok in the cities are eradicated, even though they seem to pop up in the streets like filthy parasites that just can’t be killed. it’s only fitting for beings like them to die by his hands, in the name of god, as he cleanses the realm with his brutal hunts.

so he’s completely unaffected when he fires a frenzy of bullets into the fallen demon’s head, until the writhing body stops moving and the tips of the extremities begin to crumble into ash that gets lifted by the cold, unforgiving chill of the night. 

the tattoo on his back begins to heat up, but he ignores the hot, itching feeling that begins to crawl up his spine as it radiates from his inked skin. he keeps vigilant, whipping around to end another demon’s existence when it tries to attack him from behind. three shots is all he needs to kill this one.

his skin feels like it’s on fire when he methodically goes after each of the monstrosities that he knows are part of a pack, who hunt and prey upon unsuspecting humans and revel in their misfortune and anguish. 

_disgusting._ they stop trying to attack him, because it’s become clear that _he’s_ the hunter and _they_ are the hunted, considering he’s already taken down all but three of their pack. 

he doesn’t run after them, because he _knows_ that he’ll be successful tonight, that the bleak cement that they run across while they flee from his aim will eventually be painted black with their blood and their entrails.

absolutes are dangerous in a horrifying profession like his, and yet he still believes that his chances of completing the mission are _absolutely_ one hundred percent. 

the wisps of dark energy in the wind that lingers is all he needs to trail his prey. it’s silent and he knows that they’ve chosen to hide, but he follows the little tendrils of darkness that are scattered in the air, pieces of matter that only special humans like _him_ can see, and it leads him to an abandoned church that lay on the outskirts of the city, almost where the dark woods begin. 

he chuckles under his breath, because it's ironic that the unholy creatures would pick such a place to be their final resting ground, and the fiery red pain shoots down his arm, but he chooses to ignore it. as he takes confident strides up to the large, wooden doors to the dilapidated church, he reloads his gun, which many people would be surprised to learn that regular weapons have the ability to slay demons, though it does take special bullets.

it’s only when he kicks the door open and steps inside that he realizes that things are _so_ very wrong, because the large doors slam shut, and he’s doused in dark energy. 

all the crosses in the church are flipped upside down, stained with an ugly mix of black and red claw marks, and he’s paralyzed to the spot, acutely aware of the low clicks and inhuman growls that approach him with every passing second.

his tattoo is so hot it feels like he’s being branded with an iron and he can’t breathe, because his skin feels like liquid fire, feels like he’s being burned from the inside out.

but he doesn’t flinch as the three remaining demons all rush at him with their grotesque, gnashing teeth and their blood stained claws, merely closes his eyes, seemingly preparing for them to strike him with the final blow.

the only thing that he hears is the sounds of screeches, the sound of ripping flesh, and the loud thud of the bodies that presumably hit the ground. he keeps his eyes closed until he feels an eerie yet comforting presence before him, a gentle hand guiding his face to look up.

it’s an image that would be terrifying and traumatizing for most, but it makes hangyul smile to see the mutilated bodies of the demons littered across the floor around him in a perfect circle, an absolute gory mess, except he’s left completely spotless, untouched, _pure._

it makes him smile because he’s not looking at the bodies on the floor, but the figure of the tall, otherworldly handsome man that stands before him, licking the remnants of the black demonic blood that coats his other arm, probably from ripping apart the demons with his bare hands. 

his eyes are filled a deep, haunting black, and his irises are a piercing crimson that almost glow in the streams of pale moonlight that shine through the decaying wood and stained glass windows.

“so bold today, gyullie,” unlike the bloodied and monstrous look that he has, blood staining his clothing and skin, his voice is melodic, almost like the alluring call of a siren and he speaks with a unnervingly confident tone as he approaches the hunter who stands at the middle of the bloody circle, unscathed. 

“i knew you would protect me.” hangyul’s voice is low, husky, and surprisingly warm like a fine rum or whiskey. it’s confident, unwavering, even when face to face with a being that exudes a powerful, dark aura that would send almost all mortals to their knees.

the being gives a toothy smile at the words, wiping off the rest of the tar-like blood on his clothing before he holds hangyul’s face with both of his hands, bringing the hunter in for a searing kiss.

“treat me like a guard dog all you want,” the demon hisses between their kisses, passionate and lustful in every way, “but your soul is _mine_ , and i’m ultimately your master.”

“aren’t you hungry from all that work?” the hunter asks, guiding the demon’s hand down from his face until they’re wrapped around his waist instead and the demon pulls them flush against each other.

deceptively small hands reach down to capture his own hands. they pay no mind for the rift that suddenly appears beside the demon, the hunter lets the demon lead him through the rift of demonic energy, not missing the way the demon looks at him with a gaze that can mean nothing but absolute _sin_.

“let’s go home first, baby, and then i'll have my feast. ”

hangyul is a man of faith, a man who cleanses the earth of demonic beings, and yet he stands tall as he lets one of the most powerful demons in existence defile his body, letting himself be marked by a beast in the name of doing good for the rest of the people.

he’s made a deal with the devil, and now they dance in an intricate game of life and lust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment and let me know how you like it !! this is just a prologue of course so the other chapters will be LONGER!!


	2. a dangerous whisper

it’s almost two am when the demon has had his fill and he finally lets hangyul drop to the bed, absolutely exhausted from the day’s feeding session.

unlike him, the demonic being is energized, having just spent the past three hours feeding, and it was a  _ damn good _ meal as well.

he inwardly swoons, recalling the way he made the human so worked up to the point where hangyul had no mercy on his body, spreading his flexible legs wide apart and relentlessly fucking him with so much force that his toes curl and his hands began to wildly claw at the human’s back with every sharp thrust.

the human is absolutely exhausted, body slicked with various bodily fluids and back covered in deep, pulsing red scratch marks, courtesy of the incubus, who just can’t help but get a little...  _ wild _ whenever he feeds. 

frankly, with a human like hangyul in a contract with him, it’s almost impossible to  _ not _ get carried away whenever he feeds. hangyul is young, yet looks mature and extremely handsome with his sculpted features and large eyes that give him a youthful glow amidst his striking looks.

his body is downright flawless from all the training that he’s done to become a demon hunter, muscles taut and lean, body solid and built like a classic sculpture. not to mention, ever since he’s signed his soul away, the demon’s been sure to keep hangyul extremely active every night with their carnal activities. 

“youn?” hangyul stirs awake, arms reaching out to find the demon that’s just returning from the restroom, ready to clean the man that lay on the sheets. 

it’s only proper that he makes sure that his human is always taken care of, ensuring that hangyul’s well fed and managed, because a healthy human means better feeding time for seungyoun.

“i’m here, puppy,” the demon chides, easily flipping over the human so that he can wipe down the grime from hangyul’s beautifully tan skin. “there, there, your  _ master _ is here,” he coos, taking lots of pleasure in treating the human like a mere animal.

“fuck off,” the irritation is clear in the human’s voice, though his usually husky tone sounds far more hoarse from their feeding session, but as always, he’ll gain his voice back after a good night’s rest, quite the reminder to the demon that humans  _ are _ quite fragile and easy to harm.

the demon takes extra care when his towel glides over the pulsing skin on hangyul’s back. he admires the way the human’s skin becomes such a rich, bright red with the trails of his nails, another set of marks that binds hangyul to him like the tattoo, which bears seungyoun’s mark, that brands his shoulder.

the tattoo on the human’s upper back is still quite raw, as it always flares up whenever seungyoun feeds on hangyul, the ink turning a deep and haunting ruby red that shines in the darkness of the human’s dark bedroom like precious jewel.

it’s a physical marking of their contract, the tattoo a symbol distinctly identifying hangyul as seungyoun’s, and  _ only  _ seungyoun’s. it tethers seungyoun to the human realm, a point of summoning as demons like him  _ don’t _ belong and need a physical remnant of their power stored in an earthly being to let the walk upon the earth.

the small fry that hangyul often finds himself hunting are different. usually, little pests like them are sent to the human realm by more powerful demons who open a rift that temporarily joins the two worlds together, letting hordes of unsightly creatures to pass over in order to become little minions that do their bidding.

he finds himself disgusted, because ugly, grotesque beings like those really have no place around humans, or even powerful demons, for that matter. he absolutely  _ hates _ the sight of unattractive things, thinks that they need to be erased from the face of the earth and the face of hell.

seungyoun also abhors the weak, little lower ranking demons that are so useless that they get killed by mere humans are honestly a disgrace to the dark and powerful beings that demonic entities truly are.

and that’s why he likes his little human, his puppy,  _ his  _ hangyul so much. the human’s clearly not hideous at all; rather, perhaps what seungyoun would call his ideal type. 

hangyul’s demonstrated himself to be not weak, but a ferocious predator (in the eyes of other humans of course). though he may look like a fierce wolf, calculative and unforgiving in his hunt, seungyoun really thinks of him as an adorable little puppy, and the way hangyul spills blood so often makes the demon want to smile like a proud pet owner. 

“why didn’t you just feed off of me from my dream?” hangyul groans, wrapping himself up in the fluffy blankets, clearly tired and barely conscious.

incubi are able to feed in multiple ways, mainly preying on human’s natural desires and amplifying their lust through dreams, as many demons aren’t powerful enough to manifest into an actual corporal body or tether themselves to the human world. 

“you know i like that skin on skin feeling.” seungyoun shrugs hands tracing over the sensitive marks that cover hangyul’s muscled back, “you taste so  _ delicious _ when we fuck like this,” before gracefully climbing into bed alongside the human. “and it’s sunday, so you can sleep in.”

“i still have to come into the office and report my mission results later.”

hangyul’s always been over loyal to his causes, far too devout and trustworthy to ever miss on out a day of his work. seungyoun thinks he’s an absolute fool. 

“why do so much for those foolish humans when you  _ know _ they hate you to the point of continuously setting you up for failure?” seungyoun’s fingers find their way to his mark, feeling the soft, warm pulsating heat of the energy stored in the ink. 

hangyul sighs, knowing exactly what seungyoun’s referencing. 

it’s no surprise that the rest of the members of his church scorn his existence, ever since finding out his sexuality, he instantly became regarded as a sinner, a freak,  _ unfit to _ serve in the name of the lord.

perhaps it was a mistake on his part, considering he never imagined that his fellow colleagues would band together and condemn him for his preferences. 

a drink too many was all it took for the bitter libations to paint his downfall in the church. liquid sin dulled his senses, leaving him vulnerable to letting his secrets slip from him like an open book, and accidentally admitting that he intrinsically knew he preferred men sealed his fate.

he, who used to be the exemplary devout student among his peers, constantly exalted by the other priests and praised for his skills and dedication to the cross, had lost everything, he became the pariah of their brotherhood: men who used to gladly go on missions with him and look up to him for his talent in slaying demonic entities began to equate his own existence to the same filth they strived to kill.

he saw faith lead him to great things, all his life, and yet it seemed, in the moment, that faith had sconed him, condemned him for his unforgivable and seemingly unrepairable sin.

there was only one man, the head of the church, who still saw the light in him, even as a sinner, and refused to remove him because of his reputation as a hunter. 

but even under a little security from the church’s head, others found ways to make him suffer and repent. his jobs became absolute nightmares; seemingly suicide missions that would kill a small squad of five, and he would have to do them alone, because the other men would avoid him like the plauge and simply compliment him with a smile, insisting that if he was so great, then he could face the hoardes alone.

he used his hate for the others in his church, and the hate he harbored for himself as his fuel to become better, that ensures that he walks through the large doors of the church, head held high after every mission, seemingly defying death itself.

his skills are honed, he fights with no mercy, and for a moment, he thinks he’s invincible, until he’s assigned a mission to track down an incubus and eliminate it.

but his head is inflated with his successes, hundreds of demons have died by his hand he assumes that this incubus would be the next, except there’s far too much information missing from the report he’s given, and he’s purposely given a mission that he’s not supposed to survive, because this demon has killed every human that’s tried to slay it.

the report leads him to the heart of seoul, a big city with sky high buildings and bustling streets, quite different from his life in the quaint suburbs of his hometown. there’s been people, mostly in their twenties, dying in their sleep, reportedly of heart attacks, along with many who’ve simply died of ‘exhaustion.’

it seems to be a textbook case of an incubus or succubus, a type of demon that feeds through human’s deadly desires and lust, though hangyul is a little bit unnerved by the sheer amount of bodies left in the demon’s feeding spree. 

people with youthful bodies at the prime of their health don’t just drop dead from exhaustion or get random heart attacks in the night: the vanity that such demons hold makes the young the primary target, especially because it’s a time of extremely heightened hormones and repressed sexual desires. 

cases of these types of demons are usually lower on their priority scale, as many simply feed off the life force of a human through an extremely vivid dream or even having physical contact, but basically leaves the victim unharmed, only a little tired as if they just had a hard time sleeping.

something quite nefarious must be happening if entire souls are being lost, essentially sucking people dry and leaving them as empty husks, almost as if the demon treats each human like a simple snack, luring and taking innocent lives by preying on human’s natural desires with their inhuman ability to manipulate dreams and pure evil disguised behind alluring appearances.

but in his eyes, any demon is a disgusting creature all the same, because as deceivingly beautiful as they are, they’re no different from the imps that die by his hand. demon blood spills all the same; it just takes a skilled hunter and an unforgiving hand that will punish them in the name of protecting humanity.

he’s given a little apartment in a dilapidated part of the city, eerie and dangerous for some, but really nothing more than a formality for a man like hangyul, who prioritises his mission over the way his new home barely has any basic utilities and is located in an area that seems like denizens of the dark already lurk in shadows of the ominous alleyways right outside his door.

he’s not afraid; never been afraid of the darkness. 

long hours in the church’s orphanage in the dead of the night, leaving him cowering under the sheets because he can  _ see _ beings that aren’t supposed to belong in the world, can see the horrifying image of malicious creatures stalking the halls, the halls of  _ holy _ grounds.

it’s absolutely vivid in his mind, the way shadowy, grotesque beings drag their disfigured and inhuman limbs across the floor, his nights tortured by the unnerving sound of their bodies as they scrape across the wood floors, or tap on his window with their sharp claws and evil eyes.

he thinks it’s a phase, an overactive imagination, tortured by the idea that perhaps he’s just fucking  _ crazy _ , yet when he confesses to the priests about his visions of evil creatures when he’s seven, they congratulate him, call him  _ blessed _ to be able to literally live a nightmare.

he gets inducted into a ‘special’ group of children, sent to an entirely different church, where he would train and use his vision for the good of others. the way the superiors mention it, it sounds like it’s an honor, to fight in the name of god and be the sword that helps restore the balance of good and evil in the world. 

as a child, he eats it up.

what else can he do as a child that’s grown up learning about faith and the idea that belief would lead him to the right path? he thinks, no,  _ believes _ that he’s blessed, because the father said so, because the priests said so, because the nuns at the orphanage said so.

the other kids that he train with become his closests friends, yet he fails to realize that though they make naive promises in the middle of the night when they stay up like the boys they are, years later, the sworn brothers he’s known for years would turn their backs on him and voluntarily attempt to send him to his death with every mission.

youth should be valued, youth should be treasured, he realizes now, because he lived a good few years of his childhood, trained with the idea that he would become a  _ hero _ , like the ones he saw in the few comic books that the other boys were able to sneak in.

the illusion comes crashing down when he watches his own best friend and assigned partner, suwoong, get ripped to pieces when he’s thirteen. remembers the way the then fifteen year old cried for help from their mentor when an uncannily fast and powerful demon burst from seemingly nowhere, grabbing his ankle and slamming him to the floor. 

suwoong’s pained screams reach his ears in an instant, sounds of horrified sobs and shots ringing through the eerie silence of the forest around them and he pulls out his own gun, a little too large and heavy in his own young hands, heavy with the burden of saving his own friend and heavy with the bullets that let them slay demons.

hangyul tries to help his friend, but he’s so shocked that he keeps missing his shots, bullets spraying everywhere except demon that’s on top of suwoong. his hands are trembling because his heart is beating so loud that he can almost hear it from where he stands, palms sweaty and adrenaline running high in his veins, because he  _ can’t _ fucking focus on anything because suwoong’s cries sound far too loud in his ears.

their mentor is barely able to subdue the demon, but only after it’s had its way with suwoong, and all that’s left of his most treasured friend is unrecognizable, ground stained a traumatizing shade of  _ red _ , on his hands, on the clothes, on the ground,  _ everywhere. _

for the next few nights after that, all he can see is the bright, haunting crimson that still paints his vision as he closes his eyes in an attempt to find an escape in sleep. he can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t  _ breathe _ without remembering suwoong’s face and his own failures.

he thinks that it’s his fault that his friend doesn’t make it, the guilt creeping slowly, torturing him with every moment and hour, every second. he lives for vengeance, this time swears that instead of seeing scarlet fill his vision, he wants to spill the pure black blood of demons instead.

from that day on, hangyul never misses a shot. 

.

.

.

he’s actually never been face to face with an incubus or succubus, merely heard stories from seniors who’ve faced off with them as they pass on their knowledge to the younger ones as a part of their training, because knowledge is king in a life were a single piece of information can give the upper hand that can literally be the determiner against life or death.

all he knows is that  _ he _ can see them even when they choose not to reveal themselves to humans, and he can see how people show signs of being enthralled: glazed over eyes, flushed skin, incoherent talking, but most of all, that signature, spine tingling feeling of a demonic presence that signals that mechnations of the dark are at work.

the hunting ground for such demons are clubs, in cities like seoul, the nightlife is the easiest time to strike and prey on inebriated humans who can barely differentiate right from left, alcohol and the prospect of a good time making them far too vulnerable. 

his apartment is shitty, but he could really care less, unbothered by the way the place is basically falling apart, because he  _ knows _ that he looks good, and doesn’t need much to become prime demon bait.

after a few days going over information and trying to track down the hotspots of all the attacks, tracking down the footsteps and sightings of the people who “mysteriously” died, before figuring that the perfect location was a quite upscale club right in the center of the nightlife. 

its the insurance of many pretty people, lots of alcohol and drugs, and the perfect opportunity to snatch up an unsuspecting human under the guide of a one night stand and an quick and easy sex, before literally trapping a human in their dream, before snuffing out their life like the ehpermeral flame of a candle.

he only realizes just how tired he looks once he takes a glance in the dirty and broken mirror that’s in the tiny bathroom that’s attached to his little room. he assumes that walls used to be a pristine white, now an unnerving and worn down beige, or slight yellowing that’s clear on the surfaces. 

there’s a little bit of maturity that’s trickled into his features, comes with always experiencing the cold hard reality of life. he is of course, still quite charming, but it looks like he needs to bust out the little makeup that he has.

dabs of concealer under his eyes seem to do a decent job of hiding his admittedly dark circles, something that comes with the haunting aspect and grim realities of his profession and he just has to wait it out until nightfall before he heads out.

for some reason, the whole situation just  _ feels _ wrong, long hours of scouring over the case report doesn’t seem to match up, like why the situation has escalated so high with his superiors just sending  _ him _ out to do the job himself. the paper says he’s the first to pursue this demon, yet one death is honestly enough to have a demon hunter working to eliminate the foe.

whatever the hell it is, it’s a monstrosity, with a reported seventeen victims and perhaps even more if he doesn’t do anything to stop it. 

the plan is simple: strut into the club he’s identified and drink just a tiny bit to get that attractive, partially drunk flush over his face for a convincing cover. the rest of the work is to sell the act, blend in with the others who drink their hearts out and dance as if it’s their last night, hopefully he can give out the signals of an unsuspecting human, and flirt with the demon once it’s in sight.

he’ll know who it is, because the little wisps of darkness that only people like him can see will lead the way, acting as little clues that will direct his eye to his target. he’ll play the role of the prey, except he’s a hunter in disguise that will give whatever nefarious entity a taste of his own medicine.

if all goes well, he’ll be stringing along a demon, and the creature will die by his hand with a good few shots to the head and maybe a beheading if he has to bring it that far.

unsurprisingly, his plan absolutely fails, because his own colleagues fail to add all the previous deaths of other hunters from different area’s deaths in his report, and he thinks he's merely dealing with small fry, when in reality, is about to meet face to face with a being that strikes fear in even other powerful demons.

the feeling of bodies around him is actually quite an exciting feeling; he’s never been to a club in his entire life, considering he’s been raised half his life as a devout christian and the other as a professional and trained, demon slaying machine.

it makes the blood rush through his body with an exhilarating thrill of having his first ever clubbing experience, finding out that he’s not that bad a dancer, quickly picking up how to sway his hips with purpose and sensuality by copying the other club goers, even gaining enough confidence to shyly dance with a handsome man, who gently leads him deeper through the maze of bodies and holds their hips together.

he  _ knows _ that this is wrong and yet it feels so liberating to just experience life, dance like nobody’s watching, and just  _ live _ for once in his life. for a moment, he forgets all the haunting memories that linger in the back of his mind, the drink he had dulling the approach of the dark thoughts and his self deprecating self.

he knows that he’s on a mission, but he just chalks up his own excitement as another believable layer to his act as a helpless human that’s just perfect to prey on. why wouldn’t a demon target him, who looks boyishly handsome, wide eyed and eager, looking like its his first time in a club (because it really is).

the little inkling of a terrifying presence and a wisp of demonic energy in the air that he notices in the corner of his eye, and following the little tendril of darkness, his view is led to the tall and striking image of a what could only be described as the  _ dream  _ man. if he thought the man he was dancing with was already attractive, the demon is absolutely breathtaking, inhuman.

the demon, now confirmed an incubus, is exactly what hangyul assumes an incubus would look. tall, dark hair, even with the people on the dance floor obscuring some of his sight, hangyul can tell that he’s dangerously handsome, though hangyul may be the only one that can feel the demon’s evil presence, he’s sure that all the people in the club are enthralled by the creature, presence practically demanding all eyes to be on him and him alone.

there’s so much to the otherworldly looks of the demon, and yet hangyul can’t even find the words that can describe the being and do him justice. the pull is there, like an inescapable force of gravity that puts all eyes on him, and probably is the start of his hunting ploys to snatch a human.

hangyul thinks he can resist it, yet even he feels the way he’s caught in the thin, wispy web of seduction that the demon has spun. he has everyone effectively wrapped around his fingers, but what hangyul has is  _ awareness. _

he knows that the demon is and what he wants. so even if he’s caught in the pull of demonic and unholy temptation, its his goal to become the prey that the incubus goes home with tonight. the rooms seems to get even hotter with the appearance of the demon, the air seemingly rising intemperature along with the way the other club goers begin to get heated, glistening with sweat and bad decisions.

his approach is subtle. he clumsily stumbles his way through the mass of writhing bodies, acting as if he’s attempting to breach the sea of people and get another drink or a breather, perhaps head off to the restroom?

the intention of his act doesn’t matter. all that really counts is the way he expertly crosses paths with the demon, feet stumbling right as a well timed push from a random person behind him sends him right into the chest of the demon, his body colliding with solid flesh.

hands quickly find their way to his waist, seemingly stabilizing him from his fall, the delicate touch makes his skin feel like it’s on fire, and for his slightly flushed cheeks to almost match the shade of glint of red that he swears flashes in the demons eyes the moment their eyes meet.

the eyes are an attractive pool of chocolate brown, a rich and deep color that  _ calls _ to hangyul, makes him want to fall into the incubi’s deceptive arms. his heart races, like that of a rabbit that’s realized it’s being pressured, because there’s something  _ predatory _ in the demon’s eyes, and though he really should be quaking in fear, he finds himself trembling in what seems to be excitement.

moments like these he really should have gotten his wits together, should have realized just how dangerous this creature was, and yet hangyul’s only human. a slave to his instincts, and as strong as he pretends to be, he’s  _ weak. _

all it takes for him to fall is a dangerous whisper.

_ “ _ and what do we have _ here?” _

he’s dazed, world suddenly moving in what seems to be slow motion, vision not blurry, but everything seems more amplified, senses heightened as if he’s blinded with a veil of mysterious energy that warps his mind and makes him far more sensitive than he’s ever been.

simply from where the demon touches his arm, his skin feels like he’s on fire,  _ he _ feels like his entire body has started to burn like a furnace, rivulet of sweats probably slicking his exposed skin. his blood feels like it’s boiling, everything feels like he’s suddenly in a different world, in a sauna where the air is hot and thick, that his vision goes slightly blurry and clouded in a sudden urge of desire that lights up his veins.

it’s hard to breathe, air suddenly heavier than ever, his head and his heart  _ spin _ , and yet he can only focus on the demon before him, because his presence tells him to melt into his arms, to let the demon give him all his deepest and most sinful desires.

before he even knows it, the demon has his hands on his hips, the booming music and sinful beat of the music resounds through the room, resounds so loudly that hangyul feels like the sounds shake his entire body.

hands move with a determined intention, yet still meander along his skin as the man brings them close; until their chests are touching, until their hot breaths mix, until the demon starts grinding their hips together and hangyul thinks he might just die, because everything feels so damn  _ good. _

something about the way their bodies move in synchronization makes the rest of his inhibitions melt; as if the intense heat radiating from their bodies makes hangyul forget why he’s there, what he’s doing. all he knows is that he wants more, so he leans his head onto the creature’s broad shoulders, dizzy with the lust that fills his clouded mind.

it’s when the creature gently leans his head up and lays a slow, sensual kiss upon his lips that hangyul realizes just what’s happening.

he’s dancing with the devil, and sin has never felt so great before.

hangyul doesn't even know how long they stay on the dance floor, dancing so provocatively before so many people, which would make hangyul shy away, and yet instead, it makes him dance harder, move with more lust induced confidence, because he just  _ has _ to.

the demon’s voice is nothing short of alluring. if anything, the leight lilt to his voice makes it addictive, yet also comforting and reassuring from how soft but clear his voice sounds through the booming bass that fills the club.

“my place?”

only two words, and hangyul barely registers them, barely thinks about the consequences and the meaning of the words, but he’s already nodding frantically, dazed look in his eyes making the demon smile. the way his smile seems warm, and yet his  _ eyes _ , they almost pierces hangyul’s soul and puts him under the creature’s seductive spell.

he follows the demon like a rat following the pied piper, lost of his own will, enchanted to follow, to let the hands that grip him lead him to his own undoing. 

they take a stroll through meandering streets, the demon keeping a close eye on the human, who stumbles after him like a lost puppy, at his beck and call. the steps blur into each other, hangyul unable to really differentiate left from right, right from wrong, his own mind just too filled with desire and of the man who leads him away.

it’s a dangerous whisper in the back of his mind that reassures him that everything will be okay, telling him to follow, telling him to let the demon whisk him away even as he feels the inkling of danger tickle the back of his mind as they approach an upscale apartment.

no, whatever’s left of his own instincts of self preservation are screaming at him, and he feels a little odd as he steps over the threshold of the home, and he feels like something’s clawing at his chest, though his sense are still muted from the dangerous call of the demon’s haze that invades every inch of his mind, filling the cracks and crevices of his thoughts with nothing but  _ want _ .

the hands that connect that suddenly feel like a grip of a predator as they enter the bedroom, and the presence of darkness begins to trickle into his faded vision, cools his body and his mind down just a little bit, because even caught in the demon’s grasp and his magic, his sight still catches the wisps of evil that’s around the demon.

the demon pulls him into his lap, unaware of the growing consciousness that begins to rise in the human, though hangyul’s body still willfully obeys the touch of the creature, until he’s suddenly enveloped in warmth once more, the haze of heat once again obscuring his senses as the demon’s influence hits him like a wave.

hangyul tries to break free, a slave to his own human nature that revels in the lust and pleasure that the demon dangles in front of his face. it feels like trying to find his way through a miasma of bitch black, an endless maze where he can’t find the light to bring himself out of the trance he’s in.

yet with enough effort, there’s a crack of light that he spots, and it feels like he’s run a marathon as he chases after the little stream of light that evades his grasp like a delicate little butterfly that flutters through the spring winds. 

it’s skin against skin, an uncontrollable lust that erupts within him as the demon licks and kisses his neck, painting his skin with his marks of red, staking his claim and making hangyul moan in euphoria, making the human sink deeper and deeper into the demon’s trap.

but the sharp feeling of teeth along his neck is like being plunged in icy cold, frigid waters. the illusion dies right at that moment, and oxygen and awareness comes rushing back into his body as if suddenly all the floodgates have opened, and he willfully drowns in the way everything becomes clear once again.

he snaps out of his haze, suddenly pulling away from their embrace, eyes frantically taking in the shape of the room and possible exits, painfully aware of the heat polling in his stomach, but also recalling that he’s got a knife on him. 

the demon looks a little shocked that he’s broken from his spell, but is quick to continue his ministrations, eyes turning a little soft as to reassure the human.

“why don’t we continue what we were doing, baby,” it’s a sinful and seductive drawl, and hangyul can feel the way his words attempt to slither into his mind once more, attempting to sink him into his control again.

hangyul moves quicker than the demon, pulling out his blade and sinking it deep into the demon’s chest in one blow, lodging itself into the demon all that way in, and the black of evil runs from the wound, staining pale alabaster and cream colored sheets below them.

for a second, hangyul thinks that he’s won and takes out his blade so that he can deal the finishing blow and behead the demon, as the creature is frozen, unmoving.

but he’s suddenly pinned to the bed, bloody knife thrown to the ground in what seems to be rage. the dark presence that hangs in the room turns into a pressure atop his chest, seemingly about to squeeze the life out of him, because his lungs won’t expand, head feels like it’s going to burst

he can see the way the demon’s wound instantly heals, which should be impossible for demons to do, especially after being injured by a holy blade, and the black blood drips onto hangyul’s chest, the entire body paralyzed by the demon’s power.

“such a shame that you tried to kill me, human.” the creature whispered, sounding like a growl of a predator, unmoving, apathetic,  _ powerful _ .

“i thought you stupid little humans would know by now that i’m far too powerful to be hunted by weak little beings like you.” he looks down into hangyul’s eyes, pensive. “you’re twenty-fifth hunter that i’ve bested in the past month.”

he can’t speak, because the air is lost from his lungs, his body seemingly frozen as if he’s been turned to stone, trapped and at the mercy of the demon before him. he’s panicking, because he should have never gotten this assignment if twenty four other hunters have died by this demon’s hands. 

this was never part of the plan, never part of the‒

“i was getting tired of dealing with you hunters; annoying like  _ insects,” _ he hisses, eyes now the characteristic black with the piercing red pupil that glows in the darkness, instilling a fear that runs down hangyul’s spine and radiates out to the tips of his fingers and toes.

the demon comes close, hand caressing hangyul’s face asif he was made of porcelain, inspecting his features like hangyul was a specimen, before licking hangyul’s sensitive ears and biting down on the skin.

“but you’re  _ pretty _ ,” his breath is soft against hangyul’s ears, yet the tone is animalistic, wild. “and i’m glad that they finally sent me a human that’s soft on the eyes.”

the demon’s smirk reveals perfect rows of pearly white teeth, grin vaguely reminiscent of a fox’s, spelling nothing but trickery, deception, and sin. he pulls away, sitting beside hangyul’s petrified body as he seemingly admires the human’s body.

“i’d usually be very angry that you’ve ruined my clothing,” he gestures to the silk shirt now covered in black blood, which he frowns at, in obvious irritation, “but i’m what you’d call, an appreciator of the arts, and i don’t believe in ruining pretty little things like you.”

“how beautiful,” he comments, eyes scanning down hangyul’s chest as the demon unbuttons his shirt, and hangyul is left helpless, laying there with his bated breath and wide eyes; perhaps there’s something in the way that the hunter is left so pathetically at the demon’s mercy that makes the look in creatures eyes so pleased. “they’re aren’t many humans as easy on the eyes as  _ you.” _

fingers run burning trails over hangyul’s abdomen, as the demon aimlessly plays with the plain of hangyul’s flawless skin.

“tell me your name, puppy,” he commands, and the pressure is lifted from hangyul’s throat, airways becoming open once more as the air fills his lungs, though he’s still unable to move, limbs frozen and useless.

“hangyul,” he replies, and the demon seems to nod in approval.

“tell me about yourself,  _ hangyul _ ,” he hums, hands petting hangyul’s soft hair as he continues to appreciate the features of the human’s face and body.

“i-” hangyul falters, thinking about all the discrepancies in his report, “i was told i was the first hunter to go after you, and that you’re a lesser demon.”

the demon stops, clearly interested in his words. “the  _ first? _ ” he scoffs in disdain, “seems like the idiotic humans you trust so much tried to give you a one way ticket to death.” 

the words leave a bitter taste in hangyul’s mouth, because he  _ knows _ that the demon is speaking the truth, remembering the way he’s been hated by the members of his own faith who supposedly love each other, and embraces the way the light of god will guide them all to live beautiful and faithful lives.

“why would your fellow humans lie to you like this, hangyul?” the hunter can’t really tell if the demon is truly interested or not, but he’s stuck in one place, completely at the mercy of the demon’s terrifying powers.

the creature picks up on his hesitation, seemingly soothing him with little scratch under the chin. “come on puppy, tell me. i’m a demon, not like i’m going to judge you for anything,” he shrugs, looking down curiously at hangyul’s countenance.

“i ...” hangyul trails off, words getting caught in his throat, even though the demon isn’t restricting his speech anymore, suddenly self conscious of his own misdeeds and sins. 

“i’m not attracted to women.” 

the demon starts laughing, melodic voice filling the room as he cackles at the words. “ _ humans _ , so fickle, so  _ mindless. _ ” he chuckles. “to hate another human for having a preference for men.”

“i just find it interesting how someone like  _ you _ can still fight for those who scorn your existence, how someone like you can still have faith in those who’ve condemned you like they do my own kind.”

“my faith is mine and mine alone to believe.” hangyul retorts, though his brows are downturned, and his expression is pained, confused. “i’m doing this so i can protect others from the likes of demons like  _ you,” _ he growls, a fire reigniting in his eyes.

the gaze on him is pensive, thoughtful, seemingly taking in his words,  _ thinking _ , but of what, hangyul doesn't really know. 

“i like you.” the invisible pressure pinning his limbs to the bed lifts, his arms slightly aching as he sits up, backing away from the demon towards the headboard just in case.

“don’t run from me, hangyul,” he chides, “i can kill you in seconds, but don't worry,” he reassures, beckoning the human towards him with an elegant finger, as if he’s a master calling over a pet. “i get sad when i kill pretty humans like you, so if you behave, you’ll live.”

his heart beats in his chest, ears able to hear the way his blood thrums in his veins, the danger of the demon’s presence setting off his body’s senses of self preservation, yet he obeys, crawling over shyly over the sheets.

there really is no other option. his weapon discarded, on the other side of the room, and the demon is clearly nowhere near a lesser demon, and hangyul believes the creature when he says he can end hangyul’s life with the snap of a finger. 

he’s welcomed with open arms as the demon pulls him into his lap once more. “you know i can’t let you hurt other humans,” hangyul begins to say, before he’s shut up by an elegant finger that presses on his lips, quieting him down.

“i want to make a deal,” the demon starts off, hands traveling down to hold rest on the human’s hips, intentions odd and unknown to the hunter. “give me your soul, bear  _ my _ mark, and let me feed from you.”

his eyes narrow, “and what do  _ i _ get,  _ demon? _ ” the words are barely a whisper in the night, yet hold a hate that runs deep in his words, they way his sharp tongue spits out the response.

“i’ll protect you. you can get revenge on those who look down on you and send you on hopeless hunts, you’ll be guaranteed to walk away alive each and every time,” he smirks, “at the small price of your soul, of course.”

“to let you also walk on the earth and kill other humans?” hangyul questions, looking deep into the glowing crimson orbs. 

“you’ll be the only one i feed from, from today on, i’ll stop draining the other weak little humans until they die.”

“what makes you think i’ll accept your deal? what makes you think i trust you to keep your word?” demons, evil creatures, are no higher than making fake deals and tricking humans to sell their souls, and hangyul is no stranger to the nefarious ploys of an unholy being.

“i’ll give you my true name,” the demon says, “and i’ll let you indulge in the greatest of fantasies and desires that you wish,” hands on his hips pull them closer together, making hangyul aware that even he can’t resist the demon’s call, tempted by the heat of their bodies.

“deal.”

a true name is powerful, an ancient power and relic that only the most powerful demonic beings have. it’s a link to their own powers, something held sacred by all demons because a true name can bring a demon to their knees, ensures that contracts are kept and upheld. 

hangyul is no fool, accepting the mark of the devil in the name of saving others, a necessary evil. the creature looks extremely pleased, and he comes up to kiss hangyul once more.

there’s an inherent power that hums through the way their lips meld together, an inescapable attraction and pull as they dive deeper and deeper into each other, tongues moving on instinct, or at least what hangyul thinks he  _ should _ be doing. 

they part, and the demon gestures for his left hand, before he presses his lips to hangyul’s open palm. 

“sorry, this might hurt just a little bit.”

a finger lightly traces a straight line on his palm, from the bottom of his fingers to where the palm meets the wrist, feeling as delicate as a feather, before the finger suddenly turns into a claw and pierces his skin, dragging downwards through skin like ripping paper until there’s a bloody wound and the dark scarlet drips from his hand like haunting tears leaving an eye.

the demon eagerly laps up the blood, and something about the way the creature’s eyes are half lidded, seemingly pleasured and content, makes hangyul’s skin tingle, though his hand trembles with the sting of his open wound against the swipe of the demon’s tongue. contrasting the way his blood seeps from the wound, he feels an mystic and ancient energy accumulate, and seemingly enter his body from the demon's cut.

his body feels energized, a renewed and unfamiliar energy coursing through his veins, a subtle connection that seemingly binds the two of them together. he knows the demon's secret, knows how it is hidden in his blood.

“you’ll know my true name should you need it,” the demon says, pointing at wound on his hand. “i know i said i don’t want to ruin such exquisite ones like you, but my name is in this mark, and this is the only way to keep my name secret to just you and i.”

“in the meantime,” he whispers, kissing a trail from hangyul’s chest to his neck to the side of his jaw, lips lingering on his skin, as if tasting him. “you may call me  _ seungyoun. _ ”

he rips off the flimsy fabric of his own, bloodied shirt, that’s stained with an inhuman and haunting black, revealing smooth, flawless skin, as if he’d never been stabbed by hangyul in the first place. there's ink on the demon's alabaster skin, and it makes the pool of heat in hangyul seemingly intensify, as if unlocking a newfound guilty pleasure that makes his mind sing with want.

“let’s seal the deal, shall we?” seungyoun says, looking dangerously into hangyul’s eyes, the pull and allure of the demon there, but this time, he feels the similar effects on his body, but his mind stays clear, no haze obscuring his awareness and his own mind. no more tricks, illusions or deception; just the two of them in the room, air thrumming with energy in the darkness.

“how exactly do we seal the deal?” 

“isn’t it obvious. puppy?” the demon gleams, pressing hangyul into the bed. _“_ i’m going to _devour_ you, of course _.”_

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a h ah a please comment bc smut coming next chapter!! TELL ME HOW YOU FEEEEEEEL ABOUT THE STORY SO FAR!!!!!!

**Author's Note:**

> please comment and let me know how you like it !! this is just a prologue of course so the other chapters will be LONGER!!


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